Understanding Neela
by starryjen
Summary: Neela was four when her brother died, how did it effect her life. Partly AU. Hints of Reela.


Disclaimer: _I'm very sorry but I don't own ER, do you thinks would have worked out as they did if I had, I might like angst but not that much! I've always wanted to understand what made Neela the way she is, and then one day before Christmas I was reading some forums and I read a post, I think by G-Unit, which mentioned Neela having an older brother who had died, and this is the result. Her past life is AU, but the present should fit in with the current series. I hope you enjoy and that it perhaps gives you some insight into a possible reason for Neela being the way she is. Enjoy!_

**_--- Understanding Neela ---_**

She was four when her brother died aged seven. She didn't understand. Overnight she lost her hero, her mentor, her playmate, her best friend and her big brother. Aged four the mantle of eldest child, eldest son even, was hefted onto her shoulders.

Even at four she wasn't scared of her parents, she knew they'd never hurt her, she knew that they loved her, it was just that they had all these rules to live by. She quickly fell into her new role, the cheeky faced, dark haired, little girl became more serious, less mischievous, more eager to please. Even at her young age she took on the responsibilities expected of her.

It didn't get any easier when she started school, if she learnt four new words, it should have been ten, if she could count to ten why not twenty, the never said 'your brother was better' hanging in the silence.

She missed her brother, he'd made her laugh and smile. He'd make faces at her across the dinner table, played with her, climbed into bed and cuddled her when she'd had a bad dream, but he wasn't there any more. She couldn't understand that, couldn't understand why he'd left her, what she'd done that was so bad that he'd gone. All she knew was that he had.

From the age of five she was constantly straining for perfection, not just against the unsaid words but against the rest of her class, her school. She spent the time her peers spent playing studying her letters, words and numbers or doing her chores. On Saturdays she took viola lessons, Sundays her father spent teaching her Punjabi. When her peers progressed to Topsy and Tim she was reading the Chalet School book, stories that were more foreign to her than Punjabi, fun and adventure being two words seldom seen in her vocabulary.

Hers wasn't an unhappy childhood, she knew nothing else. There weren't many children of Indian origin in her school but those she knew lived similar lives. Family was all important, respecting your elders and bringing honour to your family name being drummed into them from the day they were born. They were the kids who weren't invited to parties, not because they were Indian, but because their parents would say no. They stood apart from the other children, the skin colour, clothing, food, religious beliefs, highlighting their differences.

She found comfort in her books, but it was maths and later science, that gave her the greatest pleasure, the logic of it all, the right and wrong so much clearer than the make believe.

Nothing changed with secondary school, her parents still pushed her to be the best against increasingly tougher competition. Her brother hadn't lived long enough to reach that age, but, as she handed over her report cards and grades, the silence still spoke 'he would have done better'.

She still missed him, his name wasn't mentioned at home, if she said it the glare spoke volumes and she quickly learnt not to, but it didn't stop her remembering his cheeky face and quick laugh. By the time she was twelve most of the weight of her pillow was made up of tears, the sorrow inside her wringed out at night, when no one could see or hear.

She'd become the eldest child, had held her sisters and, later, her baby brother's hands when they started school, defended them against bullies and made sure they always got lunch. Not once had she been home later than she'd said she'd be, or done something she knew she shouldn't, those days were over the day her brother died. As the school bullies were fond of saying she was a 'little miss goody two shoes', a suckup, a teachers pet. She pretended she didn't care, ignoring the pain that came with the taunts.

She stayed indoors at break and lunchtimes, cowering down in the library with books on chemistry, biology and anatomy. She knew that her parents wanted her to be a doctor, it had been set in stone since her brothers death, and though she would have rather been a scientist, she once again accepted her role.

There was one small hiccup in the plan. Football (now soccer in her mind). It happened as she was choosing her GCSE's, her PE teacher encouraged her, really encouraged her, to choose PE as one of her subjects, she was too talented to let it pass her by, she said. Her father didn't go mad, he didn't scream or shout, he said a quiet 'no'. She rebelled, she asked if she could at least play for the girls team on Saturdays, that got the same response, and the silence spoke again 'he would have known better than to ask'. Her rebellious stage ended there.

She got 8 straight A's at GCSE level, and then 5 more at A level. On both occasions the silence was quiet, her brother couldn't have done any better.

One by one her siblings had started secondary school, her sisters running with the cool kids in their year, their father never quite as strict with them as he was with her. He had no grand aspirations for them as he did for her, they were expected to settle down and raise good, well mannered Indian children, were as she was carrying the family name on her shoulders. Her younger brother, well he was the baby of the family, the replacement son, he could do no wrong.

She never questioned any of this. They were her parents and she lived by their rules, if she was jealous of her siblings freedom she never showed it, though her pillow was fuller now with screams of frustration and tears of unfairness than it was of grief.

Her mother said nothing if her sisters wore eye-liner and lipstick, but if she did, it was as if the end of the world was nigh, it was as if she'd announced she was dropping out to become a punk rocker.

Her father had a thing about punk rockers, as far as she knew it dated back to the early 80's in London, but it was never clear what exactly had happened. All she knew was that punk rockers were up there with nuclear war and disgracing the family and that she'd be disowned if she ever strayed into that area, or heaven forbid, if she married a punk.

It came as no surprise that she had multiple offers for university, and no question that she would accept the place at Yale; the silence found its voice once more 'he would have been offered an Oxbridge place', of course, she hadn't been. All the same for the first time she felt her father's pride, if only for a little while.

Life at Yale was different yet the same. It was her first time away from home, first time living away from her parents, but she stayed on the rails. She went to lectures, she did the practicals, she studied every day. Again she became known as a bookworm, a teachers pet, always having the answers to the toughest questions.

It wasn't all work at Yale, she took up running again, spending an hour a day on the track, kicking out the tension, mulling over the questions. She met Josh on the track. He was a year older, a serious student too, but fun. He made her laugh in a way she hadn't since her brother, in a way she'd never thought she would again. They studied together, they ran together, they ate together and slept together.

She couldn't make him her life though. Always in the back of her mind a little voice was whispering 'your brother left you so why won't he?', that little voice prevented her from giving him her whole heart, or from putting him first in her life, before her studies.

It ended a year after it started with him begging her to go home with him for the holidays, and her refusing, stating that she had to work, and, for one last time, she put her studies in front of their relationship. She wasn't heartbroken, in some ways her heart had been broken when her brother died and had never healed enough to be damaged by another. But she was hurt, she felt his loss and was lonely once more.

After Yale came Chicago. The cold, windy city where patients weren't words in a book but real live human beings. For the first time in her life she needed more than her academic knowledge, and she was barely keeping her head above water. She stumbled through med school, graduating finally, and even though her parents were an ocean away she could still hear the silence.

However many years on here she was, still in Chicago, still at County, if she'd known then what she knew now would she have stayed or would she have accepted her place at the University of Michigan? She wasn't sure.

She'd married, and fallen in love - not with the same man - since then, had become a widow, and had transferred from emergency medicine to surgery, but she still wasn't happy. She was still lonely.

Ray, the guy she'd fallen in love with, had lost his legs to her inability to believe that he wouldn't leave her, to her inability to commit. When she lived with him, and for small moments since, he'd brightened her world, made her laugh as if she couldn't stop, made her smile as soon as she saw him, almost made her confide about her brother's education. But it had been complicated, her marriage for one reason, and her parents for another.

The silence had rung out down the line when she'd told them she'd moved in with a man, not even an Indian man, and, even though she'd made it clear that her sole reason was so that she could send money home for her brother, they still weren't happy. The silence was replaced by a dull drone when she let it slip, completely by accident, that he was in a punk rock band.

Her relationship with her parents was still somewhat frosty. They'd chosen to ignore her marriage, hadn't been there for her when her husband died, or when she almost died herself. There was no card or call on her birthday, no comforting voice on the end of the line when advice was needed, but there had been a small sigh of relief when she phoned to tell them her new address a few years back.

Even without her parents, things were still complicated. She wished with everything she had that she could switch her brain off and follow the fragments of her heart. She knew where they would lead her. Baton Rouge, home to a certain ex punk band member who she wanted to make her heart whole again. She wanted to give him the pieces of it in the hope that he would help her repair it, bring it back to life, and let her love him with it.

At that stage in her thoughts her brain always kicked in, he'd told her only the other day that he had a girlfriend, someone he'd been seeing for a while, someone he'd shared Thanksgiving with, someone who made him happy. And he deserved to be happy. But then she'd remember the light pressure of his lips on hers, and the husky whisper 'see you soon' and she couldn't believe her chance was gone. It made no difference though, the negatives thoughts reigned in her mind.

Occasionally she'd wonder what her brother would tell her to do, would he say 'follow your heart, you know this guy is the one' or would he encourage her to continue as she was, to become a great surgeon and to bring great respect to their name. She didn't know.

She wasn't sure of anything now. Was she meant to be a surgeon, should she have stayed in the ER, or what if paediatrics was for her? Could anyone really have it all, did she want to have more, could she really have a husband and children as well as a career? Did her parents wish she'd died instead of her brother, did they even love her? The silence that spoke, was that real, did they really compare everything she did to what he would have done, how could they have even known what that would have been? And maybe most importantly, would Ray stay if she asked him, if she let herself love him would he still love her back, could they have forever?

Neela was four when her brother died aged seven. She still doesn't understand. Overnight she lost her trust in people, her ability to love, to believe in happiness; moreover she lost her first love, her husband and maybe her true love before she even met them, but she hasn't lost forever yet.


End file.
